Chapter 18
Everly
The next day, I couldn’t get out of bed. I lay there with the early morning light streaming through my windows and groaned. Everything hurt. Pulling a pillow over my head, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, breathing through the pain.
The muscles in my thighs and arms were seizing as though someone had taken a meat tenderizer to them over and over. My thoughts were slow and fogged, and I was so weak I doubted I could stand, let alone make it to the bathroom or shower.
Giving up on getting up, I curled up on my side again and forced myself to sleep. Maybe I’d feel better when I woke.
“Everly?”
“Everly.”
I blinked groggily, my vision clearing enough to find Alaric’s worried expression hovering over me.
“Alaric? What are you doing here? Did something happen?” My voice came out raspy and dry.
His expression didn’t ease right away. “We were worried about you. You’re normally up by now—it’s noon.”
I nodded slowly, still fighting through the fog in my mind. “Yeah,” I rasped. “I was too weak and in too much pain to get up earlier, so I went back to sleep.” My throat felt like sandpaper. “Sorry I worried you both.”
Alaric picked up my empty cup and refilled it at the bathroom sink. I drank greedily, one cup, then another, until my tongue no longer felt like dust.
Sitting up made every muscle complain, but at least the pain wasn’t as sharp as before. I still felt weak, but not helpless. I wouldn’t be running any footraces anytime soon, but standing seemed possible.
Is there anything we can do for you, treasure?
I blinked up at him. I was getting used to Alaric and Elandor sharing the same space now, though it still threw me sometimes.
It was hard to know where to look when they spoke.
Usually, you looked toward someone when you talked—but in this case, looking anywhere felt awkward.
I settled on staring at Alaric’s chest again, which made me feel like I was checking him out.
Elandor’s laughter rippled through my head, and I couldn’t help smiling and rolling my eyes.
“I’m okay now,” I said to both of them. “I think I’ll get up and shower.”
Alaric nodded, though concern lingered. “Can I order you something to eat, or grab your clothes for you?”
I paused mid-motion, turning to look at him. “Alaric, that’s… Are you sure you’re not an angel?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t believe anyone’s ever asked me that before.” A pause. “But I want to be your angel, Everly. Only yours.”
Well. I had no words for that. How was this man even real?
I limped toward him and wrapped my arms around him as far as they’d go, hugging him tight. He smelled like campfire smoke, sticky marshmallows, and melted chocolate. In other words, a s’more, which honestly tracked.
I was still getting used to the whole mate thing. Alaric had explained that we’d be able to communicate mind to mind like Elandor and I could—and that we’d be able to sense each other’s location and emotions.
I thought that was how relationships should be.
How many arguments could be avoided if your partner could feel your pain, your insecurities, your fears? Some people might still refuse to see what was right in front of them, but for most, I thought it would make relationships gentler—more understanding.
Of course, that only worked if the other person was decent. To feel the emotions of someone cruel or selfish would become a curse rather than a blessing.
Alaric still held me, and though I didn’t want to let go, my bladder disagreed. I eased out of his arms reluctantly. I wasn’t ready to move forward with the whole mating part of the bond, but each day, I could feel myself inching closer.
Alaric and Elandor were both wonderful, and I felt so blessed to have them.
Also—yes, I was insanely attracted to my mate. But I tried not to think about that too much—
Elandor chuckled in my head.
—because that happened.
Pest.
Treasure, you know I can’t help but hear you.
As I dug through my luggage for clothes, I said, Can’t you, I don’t know, block me out or something?
Why would I block you out? I love hearing the thoughts of my mate.
I shook my head and laughed softly. There was no winning this battle.
“Everly, can I order something to eat for you?”
I paused at the bathroom door. “What sounds good to you?”
“Hmm, anything with meat. And potatoes.”
I started laughing, and he grimaced good-naturedly.
“Typical guy answer. What about something like chile verde with rice? Or maybe a chile verde bowl?”
“That actually sounds good,” I admitted. The rice might help my tender stomach. It didn’t hurt—it just felt fragile, like one wrong move would send it spiraling.
Living with illnesses was like walking a tightrope, blindfolded, over a pit of crocodiles, while others stood watching, wondering why you couldn’t just walk straight.
Alaric nodded. “I’ll order that.” Then, with complete, wide-eyed innocence, he added, “Are you sure you don’t need help in the shower?”
I sputtered and stammered, catching the playful curve of his mouth as he turned to leave. I laughed, shaking my head. If I’d had a pillow nearby, I would’ve thrown it at him.
In the bathroom mirror, my cheeks were crimson from his teasing, but I couldn’t miss the spark of happiness in my eyes.
Life was hard, but it was good. And I felt, deep down, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
As I showered, my thoughts drifted.
It’s hard to explain, but my whole life had felt like preparation for something more. I could never have said what that more was, only that it existed, hovering just out of reach.
To an outsider, the last ten years of my life might not have looked like preparation for anything—but to me, it had been a long, hard training ground.
I’d learned strength by walking through weakness.
I’d learned my worth because I’d had to fight for it—again and again, in a thousand quiet ways.
I’d learned that while the world often chose anger or power, I could choose peace. And that peace mattered—deeply—to my health and my soul.
I’d found wisdom in despair, and patience in stillness. I’d learned how to wait in the in-between, in the holding patterns of my life.
And somewhere along the way, I’d realized that true joy couldn’t exist without suffering. You had to know one to understand the other.
Alaric wasn’t a dream I’d ever dared to have.
I couldn’t have known mates existed, or that the supernatural world was real—but if I had known, I would have dreamed of him.
He treated me with respect. He listened. He valued me, cherished me, and adored me. In his presence, I felt precious.
And as the water rinsed over me, warm and steady, I realized…
I had been waiting for that all along.
For him.
I might not have known he existed, but I had hoped.
And sometimes, hope was all you had.
After my shower, I dressed in soft, comfortable clothes—sweats, a downy sweatshirt, and thick warm socks—then curled up on the couch.
Alaric found me there half an hour later, arms full of takeout bags.
I weakly chuckled. “Did you buy out every restaurant in Moonhaven?”
He looked sheepish. “Maybe?” He shrugged.
“Elandor said your stomach’s feeling tender, so we weren’t sure what would sound good, even though you said chile verde.
” He began unpacking the bags on the table.
“I’ve got subs, potato salad, chips, and cookies in this one; Indian food here; gentle egg drop soup and crackers in this one; and chile verde bowls in that one.
” He looked back at me. “Does anything sound appetizing?”
I blinked rapidly, my throat tight. Would it ever stop surprising me when he did things like this? I vowed right then and there never to take him for granted.
“Everything sounds really good,” I said with a wobbly smile. “Maybe… a little of each?”
He nodded. “Let me get that for you.”
If he didn’t stop being so thoughtful, I was going to lose the war with my tears.
Sometimes I wish I could comfort you, outside of Alaric, Elandor murmured softly.
I smiled faintly. Like a pocket-sized Elandor?
Perish the thought! Just… maybe not full-sized. I’d destroy the lodge.
I giggled, but the thought stuck with me. Sometimes the dreamscape bled into this world—maybe I could bring him out, just as a shadowy version.
Do you think I could bring you out in a sort of shadow form?
Hmm. Possibly. But the real question is whether you can put me back in quickly. I don’t want to leave Alaric defenseless.
I glanced at my mate, who was carefully making me a plate with soup on the side. The man was six and a half feet of solid muscle and quiet power. I’d seen his dangerous side more than once—terrifyingly calm, his voice flat when angered, never raised. I didn’t think he even had to raise it.
We’re safe here, I told Elandor. Let’s just try. What’s the worst that could happen?
You might turn into a raven or a puppy before you’ve put me back, he said dryly.
I froze. That’s… a good point.
Let’s hurry and hope everything works out.
That’s not a plan, I protested.
He laughed so hard I couldn’t help smiling.
Alaric, entirely aware of our conversation, just said, “Try not to damage me too much,” as if people summoned Elandor out of him all the time.
I rubbed my hands together. “Okay. First step—dreamscape sight.”
I focused inward, calling on the magic that had worked before. When I opened my eyes again, golden threads shimmered around me, drifting lazily in a wind that didn’t exist. The movement distracted me, but I forced myself to focus.
I wanted to keep Elandor connected to this plane but outside Alaric—ghostlike, smaller, and safe. Maybe the size of a large dog.
After picturing the outcome carefully, I opened my eyes.
Elandor perched on the coffee table.
I bit my lip.
Treasure, I think we’ve hit a snag.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, but burst out laughing anyway. “Why did you end up… so small? I told my magic to make you the size of a very big dog!”
Then your magic has a wicked sense of humor.
I held out my hand for him to climb onto just as Alaric came out of the kitchen. He took one look at pocket-sized Elandor and nearly choked on laughter.
Oh sure, laugh. Get it all out of your systems.
Alaric set a plate and soup bowl beside me and sat down.
I kissed his shoulder—the nearest spot I could reach—and smiled. “This all looks really good.”
It does, Elandor sighed wistfully. I suppose I get no food in this form.
“The perils of being pocket-sized,” Alaric said with a grin, taking a bite of his sandwich.
I nodded sagely, pretending to be serious. The chile verde was delicious. It was spicy and rich, the cilantro-lime rice bright and soothing against the heat.
“It could be a children’s book,” I said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Elandor the Little Dragon and His Adventures.”
Elandor groaned, curling up on my shoulder. I could barely feel him, just a soft warmth against my neck.
Mock me all you like, but I got what I wanted, he said smugly.
“And what was that?” Alaric asked, amused.
To be near my mate, and to comfort her.
“Thank you, Elandor,” I whispered.
Alaric’s smile softened. “Yes. Thank you, Elandor.”